My explanation for why Moav was replaced with Trayden
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Trayden thought they were quite clever.
I mean, sure, they could have just waltzed into the house and introduced themselves, but where's the fun in that?
They had been looking at the dark arts for a while, and, really, memory replacement shouldn't be so simple if its creator didn't want people to do it.
So, as soon as Moav had left for a while, away went the house's memory as well! It was so simple, just writing "Trayden" into the empty spots where "Moav" had been.
The fine details were a bit trickier, but it was a fun sort of challenge. Changing "thrown into limbo" in Max and Simon's minds into "put on house arrest" was more entertaining than one might expect.
It was wonderful. A flawless plan.
Until the first night.
The house had some sort of magical property to it, something that made it react to whoever was in it, so as soon as the memory of Mo disappeared, so did their room. Or, rather, it turned into Trayden's, just as everything else. A simple, dark room with red accents, just like Trayden themselves. They smiled at the many monitors with images of the kitchen, living room, and hallway displayed on them, occasionally disrupted by Luke walking to their room or Mason and Matt discussing something-or-other.
A simple bed resided in the corner, which Trayden peacefully laid down on, marveling at their genius. Tomorrow, they would polish up the memories' details a bit more, and then... oh, how about a walk in the park? That sounds lovely.
Their mind gently went dark.
---
Their eyes snap open.
There is a person (?) standing in front of them.
A person (?) who is tall, with round, opaque glasses and a classy suit, who is entirely in grayscale.
A person (?) who is named Moav.
Trayden is still lying on the ground. They scramble backwards – or, they attempt to scramble backwards, because no matter how much they flail, they don't move an inch.
"You thought you were clever, didn't you?" says Moav, the ghost of a smile on their face. "You truly thought you got away with it. Unfortunately for you, I know what goes on in my house. And I especially know when an amateur attempts some forbidden magic on my family."
They know. They know. How do they know?
'Cause they're the GRIM FUCKING REAPER, stupid, says Trayden's mind, but they're too scared to make sense of it.
"Oh, don't worry, I won't kill you," continues Mo, "that's my job, and I'm on holiday. But I think I should let you know-" and for this they lean in close "-that this won't last forever. I'll come back sometime. And I'll rewrite their memories the proper way, and they'll realize what a true villain you are.
"For now, though, I think it's time you wake up."
And with a snap of their fingers-
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Their eyes snapped open.
After the horrible sense of déjà vu faded, Trayden began to question. Was that real? (Possibly.) Does Moav actually know? (Probably.) Are they in danger? (Definitely.)
They decided to get up and go for breakfast.
Nathan was in the kitchen, humming a slight tune, attempting not to mangle their toast as they buttered it. "Ah, morning, Tray," they said nonchalantly. Their voicebank was set to some pop idol with lots of autotune. They went on with their song, working in a few words in what sounded like Japanese.
An electric guitar riff echoed through the house – Mason was awake. It stopped just as suddenly as it came. The odd dream was almost out of Trayden's mind now – how silly, to think that Mo could sense this all the way from the astral plane.
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Mo smiled. How quaint.
At least they'll all be in for a show when they get back.
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Nobody:
Mo: I'VE COME TO MAKE AN ANNOUNCEMENT. TRAYDEN IS A BITCHASS MOTHERFUCKER. THEY STOLE MY FUCKING HOUSE. THAT'S RIGHT. THEY TOOK THEIR STUPID FUCKING DARK ARTS OUT AND STOLE. MY FUCKING. HOUSE. AND THEY SAID THEY WERE "SOOO CLEVER", AND I SAID "NO YOU'RE NOT". SO I'M MAKING A CALLOUT MOST ON MY TWITTER.COM. TRAYDEN. YOU ARE NOT CLEVER. YOUR BRAIN'S THE SIZE OF THIS WALNUT EXCEPT WAY SMALLER
tbh i would type out the full announcement but idk how to change it to this situation lol